


Her Happiness

by Thrace Addicted (Amidala_Thrace)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amidala_Thrace/pseuds/Thrace%20Addicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thought they'd have actual houses at least, that she could recreate what she had in Delphi but better, and that she would find happiness. Maybe that was foolish. Maybe she shouldn't have hoped to be happy. Maybe happiness, for Kara Thrace, does not exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fanfic50 prompt #015 Breath. This is set right before the Cylon invasion of New Caprica, and assumes there was just a little bit of time between Kara calling Lee and the Cylons zipping into space. And if not, well, it should be considered AU. Originally posted April 2, 2008. Spoilers through S2's "Lay Down Your Burdens, Part 2."

_He's young and healthy. He'll be all right._

Cottle doesn't have to hear Sam coughing. He doesn't have to listen as the person he loves rasps and struggles for breath. He doesn't have to sponge him until his skin feels raw.

Neither does Lee.

_But then_, Kara thinks, _I dug that frakking grave myself._

Still, Lee is, was, her friend. Or maybe _was_ means entirely too much now. But he should have helped. Gods only know how much medication is being stockpiled up there, medication that could so easily be used to help people down here. Doesn't Lee realize how scarce resources are? They're barely getting by with the food they have, the climate being colder than anyone had predicted. Forget medicine. She knows Cottle would've given her some if he'd had it. But he doesn't. Frak.

Kara puts down the phone and walks grudgingly out of the tent. Around her, life continues. People hustle to and fro, carrying messages, running after each other, fighting. Children call for their parents. Parents scold their children. They don't have anything to worry about. They don't have anxiety clenching about their chests.

She knows she's being unfair. _Everyone_ has something to worry about here: lack of food, lack of resources, undetected Cylon agents. When the planet had first been discovered, the civilians greeted it as a salvation, a gift from the gods, a signal that humanity was meant to survive. Some military types felt that way too, and it was easy to see why: after nearly a year living in a rattletrap battlestar, anything seemed good. And Baltar could offer them that. Baltar could offer them a sort of hope that even the Old Man and President Roslin had never managed. Baltar could offer them safety, the promise of a better future, the understanding that they could give up the battle.

Sure, he could _offer_ those things. Forget about actually delivering on them.

"Kara!"

She turns at the sound of her name. Cally is hurrying towards her – well, as much as a pregnant woman _can_ hurry. Kara waits for her to catch up.

"How's Sam?" Cally's breath fogs in the air between them as she pants. "I heard he wasn't feeling well."

"He has pneumonia," Kara says bluntly, unable to look her friend in the face. "Doc Cottle was just in to see him."

"Oh gods! What are you going to do?"

"Nothing, I guess. Cottle says there's no antibiotics left. He ran out weeks ago. There's nothing we can do but let it pass." Kara tries to keep her tone light. Cally tends to be a worrier, and there are already enough things to fret about without adding one more problem.

"But … but isn't that dangerous?" Cally asks. "I was sick awhile back and that was the first thing he did. Said those kinds of infections are almost impossible to fight off in this kind of climate."

Kara shrugs. "Yeah, well. You've got more to worry about than just yourself, right? Probably why he did it." Her eyes find Cally's round midsection. "That's the rule, isn't it? Women and children first or some such patriarchal bullshit?"

Cally looks surprised. "I guess. I never really thought of it that way, actually. I mean, I was worried for the baby, but … I didn't think he'd give me preferential treatment because of him."

"Him? You've found out the gender?"

"Yeah!" The young mother beams. "Just the other day. Galen wanted to wait, you know, for the surprise and all, but I've never liked surprises. As soon as the doctor said we could see the gender, I wanted to know."

"So have you picked out his name yet?" Kara knows they have lists of boys' and girls' names practically as long as her arm.

"We're down to Richard, Nicholas or Michael," Cally says. She shakes her head with a sigh. "And I don't know how we're ever going to choose. It's so _hard_."

Kara bites her lip to prevent herself from saying something rude. Cally might think the choice of name is a serious problem. But it certainly isn't as earthshattering or problematic as the issues some people have to grapple with.

Like the issues _she_ has to grapple with.

She mumbles an excuse to her friend and takes off in the direction of her tent, already worried, already afraid she might have left Sam alone too long. Even before she reaches their tent block she can hear him coughing – a horrible, gasping, throaty sound. Kara rockets into the tent, fear gripping every inch of her.

Her husband is lying on his side, one hand held perpetually to his mouth and the other grasping the blankets. She perches in the chair pulled up near the bed, pushing a few strands of hair off his sweaty forehead.

"Hey," Kara whispers. "Miss me?"

At least he can still smile. "Always, baby." _Cough, cough_. "What'd the doctor say? Think I must've fallen asleep."

His voice has lowered to a croak under the influence of the illness, but that gives it a husky quality Kara decides she likes. She scoots closer. "He, ah, he says you'll be fine. Says it's just a little infection, you'll be over it in no time. But no more pyramid court for you."

"You were never a good liar," Sam points out. _Cough, cough._

"Yeah. Guess not." Kara looks at the floor again. "It's pneumonia, Sam." For a moment she allows some of the fear she's been feeling to flicker across her face. It's not fair to him and she knows it, but she's sick of keeping everything inside all the time. "Cottle says he doesn't have any antibiotics left. I tried to ask Lee, but he needs them for the pilots up there."

"Hey." He grips her hand with surprising strength. "I'll be all right. I'm a survivor, remember? Eight months on Caprica."

"Yeah, before I had to bring a whole division of marines in and rescue your sorry ass," Kara snickers. She feels better now he's touching her.

"Point taken."

Sam kicks the blankets off, and she raises an eyebrow to see he's wearing nothing but boxers. She grabs the blanket before it can fall to the floor and starts inching it back over his legs. "Godsdamnit Sam, you'll freeze."

"Cold, what's that?" he coughs, and Kara grabs a cloth to wipe some of the sweat from his face.

"I had to wear two coats just to go outside and Cottle's got three people in for frostbite, that's what _cold_ is," she admonishes, but gently, and he smiles as her hand brushes over his face.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so cold if you'd climb in with me," Sam suggests.

"I'm not frakking you, Anders," Kara says flatly. "Not now. You should be sleeping anyway."

"I didn't _ask_ you to frak me," he retorts. His hand scrabbles for the blanket and he coughs throatily again. "Shit, you're right. It's frakking freezing."

Kara's stomach twists with worry over how fast his temperature's changed, but again she doesn't show it. "Oh, did I just hear what I thought I heard? 'Shit, you're right'? So you're admitting I'm right, let me get a piece of paper and write down the day and the time …"

It doesn't work nearly as well as it would have with Lee.

Sam tries to laugh. "Get in bed with me, Kara Thrace. You know you want to."

She chews on her lip. She _does_ want to, but she's afraid. Afraid of getting sick, afraid of pushing him beyond his limits, afraid that if they get into something hot and heavy she won't be able to stop. But he's her Sam and she loves him and frak, when he looks at her with those eyes …

Kara drapes the heavier duvet over him and peels back the undercovers, just enough for her to slip underneath. He's shivering now even as the cold sweat is drying on his body. She pulls the blankets up around both of them, right up to their necks, trying to ignore the biting wind whistling through the tent and the way Sam's arms are winding around her.

"Know what we should rename New Caprica, Kara?" He smiles. "New _Crap_rica. 'Cause it's crap here."

"Can't argue with that logic, honey," she sighs. This isn't how she envisioned settlement on the planet, that's for sure. She thought they'd have actual houses at least, that she could recreate what she had in Delphi but better, and that she would find happiness. Maybe that was foolish. Maybe she shouldn't have hoped to be happy. Maybe happiness, for Kara Thrace, does not exist.

Sam's hands are wandering further now, slipping up through her shirt, and he has a little smile on his face trying to pretend he hasn't noticed and she _knows_ she should stop him but … and one of his fingers tweaks her nipple, and suddenly it isn't about warming him anymore, it's about them as husband and wife. When was the last time they made love? Certainly before he got sick, and that could have been weeks ago.

"Sam …" Kara starts, and some part of her is aware of her own hand, caressing his chest, but she's not thinking about that right now.

"I know. I don't have the strength." His voice is derisive and it's clear what he thinks of that assessment. "You're curing me, baby. I haven't coughed once since you climbed in here."

"True, I guess." Facts are facts.

Sam seems to take her subsequent silence for assent, and his hands are moving again, dipping into the well of her navel and pushing beneath her tanks. _Now I'm the one who doesn't have the strength. The strength to resist_, she thinks. _Serves him right if he passes the frak out._

Still, she matches him move for move and soon they are entwined with each other, her fingers grasping his cock and moving up and down, gently, and he's growling softly in his throat and she can hear the crackle in his chest, but he's right, he hasn't coughed, so she continues. And he's moaning, he's trying to sit up and climb on top of her. Somehow their undergarments have been shed. She doesn't remember exactly when that happened.

"Sammy, no," Kara whispers, and suddenly she's taking the initiative. Pinning him back down to the bed, rolling over, bare flesh slapping against bare flesh. She has him by the shoulders now and she's sliding down on him, inch by torturous inch. He looks up at her with such love that she doesn't regret it.

Usually they're fast. Usually they've practically jumped each other, and are competing with their kisses and nibbles and touches, almost as if they think they can out-frak each other. This time it's different. This time she rides him, slowly and surely, and it's she who sets the pace. This is a different kind of encounter, and Kara's intrigued by it. It's not better or worse. Just different.

He draws her lower, and their kisses sound loud in the little tent. He's barely moving, having left that up to her, and she's glad for it. Gentle thrusts draw out their respective climaxes, and Kara arrives first, moaning softly and reaching down to cup his hips and provide that extra little bit to send him over the edge. Sam pulls her down when he comes, pulls her down on top of him and just holds her there, breathing hard. For a minute she's afraid.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Shit, Sam, it's a frak. You don't have to _thank_ me." But Kara smiles against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. He's hers again. Somehow, she isn't worried anymore. They're going to be okay.

Everything's okay, even on this stupid frakked-up planet where nothing good ever seems to happen. If it's just them in the world, if they can hold each other and love each other, they can get through this. Sam loves her for who she is, a terminal screw-up. That takes courage.

Maybe this is Kara Thrace's happiness.


End file.
